


Living In the Moment

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-02
Updated: 2002-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan struggles with his need for submission, and what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living In the Moment

Sometimes I hate this.

Actually, what I hate, is knowing I need something, and that the need can twist me up faster and harder than anything else. How the hell did I live for four-hundred odd years without knowing this was inside me? Without ever trying to find it, or discovering it on accident? Am I really that blind to myself, within myself?

Methos says it's not so much being blind as not wanting to see. I'm not sure there's a difference, really. But then he'll fling something at me that could only have come from my chronicles, and that seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do at the time, but now...seems so...submissive.

That word. I hate it, too.

It feels...weak. And I know that's so far from the truth. A weak man couldn't do what I do. Couldn't take what I take. Couldn't feel what I feel without getting lost in the vortex. Because when it's working and it's right and I'm not hating it, it's perfect. A perfect moment. Sometimes I see it as swirling colors, other times it's just heat, pouring over my body in waves, or maybe the dizzying sensation of flying or freefalling, knowing someone -- Methos -- will be there to catch me when I finally plummet.

Then, I love it. I love him for showing it to me, for making me feel. For letting me feel. For never having to do more than touch me, a gentle stroke of fingers over my neck. For one softly-spoken word that always seems to reverberate through me, like an echo in a large room. Sound, filling a void.

He's the sound. I'm the void.

"Kneel."

And I go. God help me, if he said that to me out in public, I'd probably slide to my knees then and there, my gut clenching and shivers rippling through me.

I bow my head and concentrate on his feet, his boots, wait for his hand to touch my hair, to give me leave to kiss his boot, and when it comes, I'm there. I bow my head, lowering myself enough make contact, and feel everything inside me unclench when my lips touch cool leather. I push back then and raise myself, fingers twining behind my back to keep my arms from shaking. To keep me from shaking.

"Good pet." His hand touches my head again, fingers stroking through my hair, pushing it back from my face. His voice fills me, thrums through me, and I shiver. It's perfect and I'm there, and nothing could be better.

 

~fin~

 


End file.
